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Church camp sounded like a jail sentencing to Tanner.
Tanner wondered if he had done something wrong. Or if his parents were simply tired of having him around the house all the time.
That’s what the woods smelled like. Dead animals, moist earth, and feces . . . but all of it was kept at a distance. The horrible fragrances merely tickled Tanner’s nose rather than assaulting it.
That’s because this isn’t a movie. This is real life. In real life, bad guys don’t just kill people. They watch them suffer. That’s what they “get off” on.
“There are lots of evil people in the world, son,” Tanner’s dad had once told him. “They like to . . . well . . . take kids and do bad things to them. You have to watch out for these people.”
It looked like a crimson shower.
But boys would be boys. He’d rather not force them to ignore their natural God-given instincts. They just had to be careful.
He realized the house wasn’t entirely silent. Muffled and distant, the sounds of a record being played rose up from the basement.
“Rock Lobster” by the B-52s.
In exchange for good, Godly behavior, they were permitted to purge their devilish impulses on rare occasions.
It’s as if God himself wants me to take him. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you.
